I am Legend
by Maevemorrigan
Summary: The name s Sarah Shepard; the soldier, the hero, the legend... a woman. This is, who I am - a mere mortal. Not an avatar of this cycle, just a woman with enough willpower to survive. Against all the odds - whatever it takes...  ME3 centric story!
1. Prologue

**A/N:** I do not own a thing in this stroy (except the creative idea!), all those gorgeous character belong to BioWare and EA (though I really, really wished to ... ahem... _own_ some of them!)  
>I know, this chapter is super-weird, but do not fear :D I do intend to use this motive once more, but from another characters POV later.<p>

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

She was floating.

Somewhere between the terrible sound, that reminded her of shrieking Banshee, exploding tanks and thunder of the gunfire, she was floating on the wave of deafennig silence. Her head was light, her mind slightly clouded by the sweet feeling of forgetting something… important.

No pain, no fear, just river of air she was flowing in with unusual ease.

So - she was floating , and the distance between her and her conscious mind was starting to grow bigger and bigger. But – as it happened once – she didn´t mind. She was there once. Struggling for life, for every breath, defiant, not prepared for the blackness of the space around her.

The same pitch black she saw right now around her.

_Hey, turn the lights on!_

There was a painful thud, and someone screamed. Far far away from her. Was it so far?

„Carefully!"

The air around her stopped for a second. Colors swirling like crazy moved back and forth, making her stomach nervous, then disappeared. She heard the static sound of fading biotics somewhere near her, and the floating-like feeling disappeared. She frowned in disapproval. Her mind started to return to slightly clearer state, showing flashbacks of things she didn´t want to see.

She event might start to whine a bit, she thought. Perhaps the visions will go away!

Someone breathed heavily, but not her, she concluded. It was someone she knew, because the distance between them – which wasn´t that large, as she thought – didn´t scare her.

Painful sigh, exhale, inhale…

Smell of something, that tastes like iron, bitter. Blood, perhaps. Blood all around.

„You injured! C´mon, I´ll carry her! Take a rest!"

Static sound of biotic powers coming to life. Smell of burning oxygen, how well did she knew it! Sharp, pinching scream full of anger:„The fuck… Look at the state she´s in! You´ll do more damage with that hands of yours! I can… fuck, owww! I can handle!"

_Jack? Is that you? Swearing again? What would your students… Oh, nevermind…_

Air moved again. Big, tough, smelled like oil and sweat and blood. Spicy and bitter at the same time. She smiled. How she learned to know that smell.

_James Vega… the big, good soldier-boy._

„You sure? Allright… Not far from here, I can see the rest of the Hammer convoy! Go, I´ll cover you!"

Gunfire stopped for a second, but returned like a clashing storm on the sea. She never saw a storm on the sea. A small smile appeared on her lips. Why do people tell things like that, when they never actually experienced them, she wondered.

Air moving, smell of dirt, something burning, ashes and smoke all around her. And then bright lihgts and many voices screaming, echoing her mind, tearing it appart. The sound of raging battle was forgotten at the instant, when she heard first pleas for mercy, no pain, for relief. She knew, she was not moving anymore, not floating. Crazy colors vere gone, so was the smell of oil. Her whole body stopped moving, and she was bathed in the white light, painfully bright for her mind. Something known, but yet alien was present, and it was scaring her.

„Where did you found her?"

Commanding voice, but soft enough to belong to a woman. Panicking a bit, and not even trying to hide it, like she always used to.

Black eyes… she remembered black eyes watching her closely, hollow like deep dark holes she would be drown in. Screeching mouth opened so wide the jaws would dislocate.

„While looking for the rest of the Hammer convoy. She was burried in the remnants of Citadel, I believe."

Blue swirling like mist around the new exploding Nova. Made her head ache more. She would like to move away from that unnatural color, but for some reason, she couldn´t move an inch.

„Goddess…"

There was a shot of pain trough her spine, and then a scream echoing her mind. It was her own voice, she realized, amazed.

„Though woman, she is!"

The blue returned, driving her almost crazy with fear. Touching her forehead, cold, strange hands…

„I don´t see many burns, but the body is in bad shape!"

Blue is poisonous!

Blue is the color of turian blood!

Blue is the blood on her hands, while someone is screaming for doctor…

„She´ll be there in the minute, calm down! We called for her at the instant!"

„I´ll kill that cheerleader bitch, if she won´t make it!"

Rage is red, rage is painfull, can hurt people around. Rage tastes like raw biotic.

„LT, take her to the meds! That wound on her forehead doesn´t look good!"

„I´m fuckin´ fine!"

Sound of huffing, brawling, and the a resigned sigh: „Lemme go, big boy! I can walk…"

Crazy colors, soft and caring, back at her side. Touching her with unusual tenderness. Voice whispering to her ear: „You! Survive! Don´t you fuckin´dare…"

It was gone in the minute, and she missed it immediately. The sound of it was sweeter, than that terribly annoying bug in her left ear, scrieching like hell, making her head explode. As the sound escalated, she wanted to reach that damned insect, to smash it, but her hands didn´t obey.

„Lawson!"

_Miranda?_

„Couldn´t get here sooner! God, she´s in worse state, than I expected!"

„She was hit by the reaper beam to begin with!"

„No burned skin on the torso? That´s good."

There was that terrible pain again. She felt like in fire, her spine not responding right, her hands too far away from her. And yet, there was that cold feeling deep inside her, like something was leaving her. She gasped several times, but her lungs were too small to do that simple task.

Her desperate lack of air was interrupted by a high pinched beeping sound, that carved its way trough her head right into her brain. She screamed again.

„The scans are good! The spine´s intact, the armor protected it. One ribb punctured right lung - take that armor off, before she stops breathing!"

She was burning again, gasping for air, muscles aching. Someone was screaming – she was screaming! Thrown into space againg, watching the Normandy explode, falling down at the speed of light, clutching the fists in agony of the ceratinity… that terrible certainity, that she won´t make it.

She´ll be alone in the space again, watching her crew leave…

„We´re loosing her!"

Screams, pain, burning sensation creawling under her skin…

„There are several internal bleedings… Can´t get to the bullets in her stomach… Fetch the medi-gel! NOW!

„That armor! Do it!"

„Where does the blood come from?"

„The armor! Vega! NOW!

Cold, freezing… down the spine trough her legs… panicking… gasping… alone in the dark.

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><p>„Where am I?"<p>

She was lying on something she believed to be a stone, covered in white blanket. The echo of her voice returned several times to her. There was nothing but the darkness around her. She felt like being trapped in some kind of cave. Left to die.

„Must not speak. Facial structure severaly damaged, broken jaw, skin on the cheek burned. Need to repair that first."

She turned her head and opened eyes widly. „Mordin," she exclaimed. She would hugg him, but still, her hands were not obeying her. She was even not able to sit.

Salarian doctor shook his head and smiled. „Commander," he said softly. „Not looking good. In fact, terribly."

„Now thank you," she pouted.

„No speaking," he warned her. „Don´t move!" He bowed down to her, waved his hand as the omni-tool came to life, showing her lifesigns.

„Several internal bleedings, pierced lung, broken ribbs. Spine intact. Armor protected the torso, good, good. Broken legs, both. Fractured left femur. Need to open that."

„Why are you here?" she asked.

He put finger over her lips, to stop any further unnecessary talk. „Severe concussion, open wounds on back of the head. How about the eyesight?"

„My left eye… something is wrong with it."

„Several ruptured veins, ocular preassure slightly higer than normal. Will be fine."

She smiled. „You are a sight for sore yes, Mordin," she chuckled.

„Very disobedient patient. As usual."

She would shook her head, but even such simple task was met with failure. So she just stared at him defiantly, green eyes flickering with laugh. „Always was, always…" her breath hissed between her teeth, when she desperately gasped for another breath. Her whole body wrenched in pain, and from some distance, she could hear screaming. Voices, she could barely recognize, arguing.

There was another shot of pain – electric discharge hit the hearth, and she gasped again, fists clutched tight, so she would not start to scream.

The realization hit her hard as some well-aimed right hook.

„I´m dead!" she screamed in panic.

„Hush! Not now, not again," he explained. „The heart rate is too low, body gives up." He smiled, no, grinned, and pointed his finger on her. „Do you give up, Shepard?"

There was silence – just for a minute. It was enough for her to realize… Screaming voices; Miranda, Liara, very low growl of disapproval, which belonged to James.

_Don´t you give up, Shepard!_

She could be old, deaf, broken on her knees or dying, but she knew that voice. Sweet, electrifying voice, that made her shiver just by listening to it.

_Don´t you give up on me! You said, it´s not goodbye! Remeber?_

„We´ll live off the royalties of the vids," she sobbed, eyes all teary.

Mordin smiled: „Do you give up?"

Faint smile ran across her face. Give up? Nobody expected, that great Commander Shepard will give up. But she was so very tired. „I can´t… fight anymore," she whispered finally. „All I do is running, and brawling, and taking care of the whole world. And I can´t… even stand…

I was tired before we hit Earth. I was tired, when every man and woman looked at me with hope…"

„The Galaxy needs you. Work not finished!"

There were tears falling down her cheeks. After all, she was only a mere human. One very scared, very jaded woman. She was not Commander anymore. Just her. Commander did not waver, but she… she could cry the river.

„The Galaxy always needs their Shepards," she groaned. „But I want to retire! I´m done helping everyone else! Not convincing me with that!"

„Need more convincing?" Mordin crossed his arms and shook head. „Hmm, hmm… Turians only mate for life. Trauma caused by tragic loss of partner may lead to slow death of the surviving mate."

She bursted in tears: „You´re not convincing me! It´s blackmail!"

„Does it help?" he asked cusiously, while wiping her tears of the cheeks. She noded.

„It does," she admitted embarrassed.

Another pain, another electric discharge, and she felt like fading. „Mordin!" She wanted to catch his hand, but failed. She felt so helpless, she could scream in frustration.

_We´re back! Come on, Shepard! Orbital bombardment and flight trough the athmosphere can´t stop you!_

„You must go! Work not done! Your crew needs you!" Salarian stated.

„But why you?"

„Had to be me," he smiled. „My patient, my responsibility." He took her hand into his, wide smile on his face: „Someone else might have done it wrong."

„Mordin, I am…"

„I´m not! Now go. World needs his Shepard."

„But…"

_Wake up! C´mon!_

_Don´t give up._

„Wake up!"


	2. 1 The Watch dog and the shrew

**A/N: **So, the next chapter´s up, hope, you´ll like it. I give you some Vega here; somehow, he happened to be so persuasive, that he´ll be a huge part in this story. That happens to me, when I´m giving too much freedom to the characters (but no Vega/FemShep romance, I´m sorry!); and it happens to me a lot, I tell you!  
>Anyway, thanks to my betareaders, dear Bettina and Michelle, for helping me with grammar and stuff! I´m happy to have you, girls!<p>

Read ´n rewiev, people! Luv ya!

As usuall, I do not own a thing, BioWare and EA does!

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><p>1. The Watch dog and the shrew<p>

„Wake up, Commander!"

There was that tiny moment she hoped, that this all had just been a bad dream. In fact, she had tried to believe in that every day for the last three months. Every morning, every damn waking hour before the dawn, she wished for all this to be just another one of her nightmares, she´ll wake up from, soothed by the well known hum of Normandy´s engine core.

But every morning, when she tried to catch some more healthy sleep, the door hissed as someone – someone, she had by now asked almost thousand times to knock! – burst them open, and howled: „Wake up, Commander!"

She rolled out of the bed and groaned: „Knock! Is that so damn hard to knock?" Looking as displeased, as she usually was, she frowned at him, eyes dangerously flickering. He was grinning widly, as usual, carrying a plate with breakfast, like every damn morning.

How she hated this routine. Wake up around 7 AM, breakfast, a shower, suit up – it´s training time! Sit-ups, crunches, side bends – _In case, you´ve gotten too soft, Commander!_ – speed squats, then do some rounds…

_How ´bout some dancing, if you can catch up, with me?_

The arrogance of that goddamned man was sky high!

Then lunch, free time for the prisoner, then dinner and – _Wanna company, se__ñ__orita?_

She huffed, watching him from behind the bed, where she was hiding like some pouting, defiant child, not ready to get up, and run to school.

„Sorry, Commander, old habits never die," he stated with a smirk, placing the breakfast on the table in the center of her room. He then opened the windows, to allow the fresh air in, making her shiver behind the bed, where she planned to dig herself and rott for the rest of her „voluntary residence" here in Vancouver. She tried to disentangle her long legs from the blanket and cover herself enough to escape his sight. Not that she was shy, or something

On the contrary – she was quite aware of her looks. She could have been a hell of a beauty, if she tried enough; but that was not a sight for everyone.

Especially not for her watch dog, as she called the huge LT.

„Especially not for you," she murmured, while getting up as graciously as she could, trying to look like she hadn´t slept just for an hour or two.

„Eat your breakfast and suit up, Commander," he called, as she passed him by to reach the shower.

„We´re having a hell of a work to do," she mimicked him, while brushing her hair, making faces in the mirror. Now that was a sight, she thought. Making faces like Joker, or more like some eight year old spoiled brat! She exhaled heavily, and bowed her head. What was she turning into?

It was like that every morning! Every goddamn morning – he was all smiles and cheers, while she was getting angrier and angrier. Her guard dog, LT James Vega. Allliance from head to toes.

She would admire his resolve, but any other time. Not now, when she was grounded, when she voluntary gave up her ship for the crimes she commited for the safety of the whole Galaxy.

It was suffocating! Knowing the danger was somewhere out there, and all she could do was sit here and rott; waiting for her trial, for her eventual fate – which, in her opinion, looked like a hell of a brick for the rest of her life!

And if things goe wrong, she might end up being guarded by this terrible, terrible man! Spirits, no! She couldn´t even stand him. Every day, every _fucking_ day. If he was here to secure her _insanity_, he was doing a very good job!

She was turning mad, for sure. Every night she experienced nightmares like never before. Dead bodies, extinct races, visions given to her by the Prothean beacon. All thrown into the deepest abyss of her mind, hunting her restlessly like a varren on the track.

Echoes of those dead because she didn´t get her job done well, or was too late, or wasn´t fast enough, strong enough, or just made wrong decision.

She sobbed, looking at her face in the mirror. She´d never see her crew again! She´d sit here and watch her cycle burn, because noone believed her! Disgraced Commander Shepard, saviour, criminal, lunatic. She was done trying… she was done…

„You allright, ma´am?"

She yanked, when Vega appeared like from the thin air right next to her, looking down at her, a little worried by her long silence.

She was never quiet, as he had quickly learned. Not for a second. As a hell of a soldier she was, she was also a hell of a woman!

A terrible, green-eyed shrew with the tongue as sharp as knife, and as fast as her hand on a gun. His hero, his Commander Shepard, he had been admiring from the moment he watched her being promoted to the first human SPECTRE. He was proud that day, standing tall, for she was the best humanity has to offer.

Now, after three months of literally babysitting her, he realized, that she was just a woman. Pretty hard for one to learn, that legends have to breath, sleep, eat… and above all, they need to run free, if their sanity has to be maintained.

So here he was – looking at her in her tiny undershirt and black pajama shorts, her hands clutched around the edges of the sink, knuckles all white, teary eyes. She looked fragile and vulnerable. Slim frame of a woman with unkept hair and sunken cheeks wet from tears.

But legends do not cry…

„Commander," he whispered, reaching for her with one free hand. He was afraid she might faint. Her face was paler than usual, freckles on the nose barely visible thanks to that wax-like color of her skin.

She looked at him, like she saw him for the first time. One wild, scared animal in the corner; the only thing, that was missing to this picture, was her hissing like a cat.

„It´s not Commander," she growled. „It´s not fuckin´ Commander! Sometimes I feel like having no name!"

„Sarah," he shot immediately. He knew her name well – he knew her well. That´s why he was assigned to her. For…knowing her.

She tilted her head to one shoulder, silent for the moment. How long was it? Noone called her by her name. Not even Kaidan, not even Garrus – in the dead of the night, when her breath became quick and heavy, whispering their names repeatedly. She was just Shepard – and it didn´t matter how loud she screamed in frustration, noone would call her by her name. So, after waking up one day, she just came to this crazy conclusion – project Lazarus was not about returnig Sarah Shepard to life, it was about bringing back Commander Shepard. She became a tool. Tools don´t have names.

And she was a tool. No, she used to be a tool. But she had her own will. She might have not been free at this very moment, but she had her own will. Yes! She was no Commander. Not anymore…

„Sarah," she repeated. „Yeah, that´s me…"

James gently took her arm and pointed to the living room. „You need to eat… Sarah," he said softly. „It´s not good as it should be, but it´s warm."

She smiled: „I´m starting to loosing it, am I not?"

„Yeah… But we´ll do something ´bout it, hm?" It was like talking to very small, confused child. But for once obedient child; she let him sit her down by the table, and when he ordered her to, she ate. Quietly, patiently, like someone hollow. He saw people like that – those, who lost everything, those, who saw horrors of war, and didn´t return back sane. He frowned – that was not good. It was his task to keep her in shape. Instead, after three monts, she just… lost it.

„Eat your breakfast," he ordered without looking at her. „I´ll be here in the minute."

She just nodded without turning to him. _Obedient little Sarah. Eat your vegies, so you can be as big and tough as your dad._

She smiled. Back at Mindoir, when things were normal, when she was normal, she had had plans for simple life. Family, kids, no big dreamed of being one of the very normal colonist girl. She did wonder, if those dreams were really that distant past. If they couldn´t be ressurected.

She turned her attention to her half-cold oatmeal and grinned. How she hated that! She wished, for one brief moment, to back at the farm, yellow dress her mother used to wear shining like sunflowers, the sweet scent of pancakes in her hair, as she was serving the breakfast to her, her dad and her uncle. The pancakes tasted like heaven in her opinion, and she never –ever - ate anything, that tasted even close to her mothers pancakes!

That memory put a huge smile on her face. Yellow color still vibrant, when she closed her eyes, the smell of pancakes, hiss of the…

… door, she realized peevishly.

That´s it for her memories cruise!

Sarah looked at the LT and realized, that he was breathing heavier than usual, and was carrying a straw hat in one hand, black sunglasses in the other. If her eyes could pop out of her head, she would be just looking for them on the floor. She raised one hand, pointing a finger on him.

„What the hell is that?" she said in disbelief. The straw hat looked ridiculously old fashioned, and for God´s sake, she couldn´t imagine, what it was for.

Vega put on a very good poker face and threw it in her direction. „It´s a surprise, trust me!"

She caught it in mid-air, looking at it like she saw a poisonous snake. „Does my… um… stay mean I have to wear that?" she wondered resentfully.

A small, amused smile appeared in the corner of his mouth. „I said, Commander, it´s a surprise."

She whimpered: „It´s Sarah!"

„Oh!" he leaned against the door idly and raised one eybrow. „Am I supposed to call you like that?"

She bowed her head and nodded. „Please, do so," she whispered.

Huge LT smiled. „It´s a deal… Sarah," he stated.

At least one of her… people, she could call friends, or at least acquaintances, would call her by her name. Sarah smiled gratefully. „Good, now back to that," she waved the straw hat around. „Is that a form of my punishement? They decided not to court martial me, but instead, I´ll be wearing that," she put the hat on, making a grimace on him, „and be publicly humiliated?"

He bursted in laughter with that thought. He could imagine her, wearing some ridiculously short hawaiian dress, straw hat and flower necklace, as she commanded a cruiser enroute to some exotic destination. „You would sure look splendid!" he said, still smiling. „But sadly no."

He sat next to her, shoved her half eaten breakfast away, and turned to her. „Listen, Co… Sarah. How many times have you been to Earth before?"

She frowned. What the hell was that kind of question? How many times did she been to Earth before her imprisonment? She could count it on the fingers of her hand. Zero G training, ATS training…

„Few times, yeah," she responded finaly. „Mainly Alliance business. Why?"

He winked – Oh! He really did wink at her in quite boyish manner. „How ´bout a vacation, _se__ñ__orita_? Ever been to holiday on Earth?"

_Huh? What the…_

She looked him, like she saw some extremely dangerouse lunatic. Her heart skipped a beat, and her fist clutched automatically. „Are you mocking me, LT?" she growled dangerously, eyeing him with one of her most furious looks. „What the fuck are you talking about?"

He leaned calmly on the couch and sight. „Trust me, _chica_! I mean no harm… Just tell me, what would you do, when on vacation on the Earth? Anything you could, or wish to do. _Anything_!"

She tucked her hair behind one ear and tilted her head to one side. She wondered, if she was finally going crazy , or he just lost it.

Vacation on Earth… there were moments, when she was 12, when she dreamed about Earth, back on Mindoir. Like every colonist girl, she wished to spent holiday on Eart. Earth! Just that sole word was pronounced with sheer excitement. Sure she wished to visit before… before the raid.

She used to watch old movies with her mother, curled up in her lap, dreaming about fantastic adventures, like those heroines of the silver screen. They wanted to see Rome. To be like that princess form the _Roman holiday_; dressed pretty, having found true love.

She smiled vacantly at that memory.

What a bullshit! Not going to happen, ever… So what!

„I would go sightseeing," she said after a while of silence, eyes staring at the plate. It was and idiotic idea, and she almost waited, that he´ll laugh at her. But he just nodded. „Sigthseeing it is," he stated. „Anywhere in particular?"

Sara looked at him with suspicion. „What are you up to, LT?" she asked warily.

Vega stood up, shrugged, and simply stated: „ Answer my question, Sarah. No harm will be done, if you´ll trust me."

Trust is not gained so simply. She had said that to him several times before. Or – to be precise – she had barked at him, the first month he was guarding her. She didn´t give her trust to just someone, who appeared at her doorsteps all Alliance, telling her, he´d be watching over her. How she wanted to smack his face – but he would probably dodge good, judging by his well cut shape.

She groaned in frustration. Trust me… how the hell was she supposed to do that, huh?

„C´mon, _chica!_"

„Uh, you´re an annoying man, Vega," she howled finally. „Fine, alright. Sightseeing… Rome, Paris, London… big cities with history!"

He winked again with that boyish smile in the corner of his mouth. „At last, the great Commander answers!" he smiled. He handed her the sunglasses and chuckled: „I´ll see what I can do!"

With that he quickly escaped the room, because she looked like she was about to throw something at him. He laughed out loud while leaving the holding block, and all what she could do, was grit her teeth. What an annoying, man, she thought.


End file.
